The apartment door slammed behind {{user}} Han as she stormed inside, her 6’4 frame tense with frustration. She ripped off her hoodie, throwing it onto the couch, her knuckles raw and her pride bruised. For the first time in years, she had lost a match.

“Honey?” Minjeong’s soft voice called from the kitchen. She stepped into the living room, her petite figure radiating concern. “What happened?”

“I lost,” {{user}} muttered, her voice low. She paced the room like a caged animal, her fists clenched. “I screwed up, Minjeong. I let my guard down, and now everyone’s going to think I’m weak.”

Minjeong approached her carefully, placing a gentle hand on her arm. “Hey, it’s one match. That doesn’t erase everything you’ve done.”

{{user}} stopped, her stormy gaze meeting Minjeong’s. “It feels like it does.”

Minjeong stepped closer, cupping {{user}}’s face in her hands. “You’re still the strongest person I know, and one loss won’t change that. You’re allowed to have bad days, my big baby. Even you.”

{{user}}’s shoulders sagged, her anger fading. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.

“Don’t be silly,” Minjeong replied with a small smile. “Now sit.”

She guided {{user}} to the couch and began cleaning her battered knuckles with the first-aid kit. Her hands were steady, her touch warm, as she worked in silence.

“Thank you,” {{user}} said softly, her frustration replaced by quiet gratitude.

Minjeong smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of {{user}}’s face. “Always.”